Another Story

Chapter Five

In which Severus searches

Severus had searched his chambers more thoroughly than he thought possible only to find no sign of the illusive notes that Voldemort believed the potions’ master’s predecessor had made regarding the demon world. If Hermione were not in the library studying, he might have asked her for assistance in the hitherto fruitless search through the things belonging to Professor Krohn, who had not had the opportunity to remove anything from the rooms at the end of his career, which had come to its sudden conclusion only a few weeks after Severus’ career as a Death Eater. The aging professor had been killed in an attack in Hogsmeade just weeks before the beginning of the school term. His death had prompted Dumbledore to ask Severus to step in as potions’ professor. In the bargain Severus had gained a safe place to sleep at night, Dumbledore could keep a closer watch upon his spy, and Snape’s currency among the Death Eaters went up slightly.

Severus had kept almost of all of his former head of house’s books and so forth as the man had lost his family in the Grindelwald war earlier in the century and no one else laid claim to anything that had belonged to Krohn, except for his rather comfortable couch, which had mysteriously disappeared before Snape had moved into the dungeons. He suspected that one of his fellow professors had nabbed it for his or her common room. And he rather suspected Minerva because she would have been able to change its color so easily from green to red.

Severus knew that his time was limited, that he needed to complete the search effort before he was called to the next meeting. He had no intention of divulging the most meager portion of information, knowing what the cost would be if Voldemort found a way to use the demons to his advantage or even set them loose upon the world. The war was no longer about purity of blood alone; it was a war of mindless hatred directed against all who opposed the Dark Lord, the muggle-born and pureblooded alike. And Severus fully expected his disobedience to cost him his life, but he would be certain that not a trace of the dark knowledge remained nevertheless.

Then as Severus returned book after to book to his empty shelves, running his fingers almost lovingly over the spines of the well-worn tomes, his eyes had happened to fall upon the picture that hung over his writing desk. It was of a castle hidden in a deep and forbidding forest. The silvery gray of the castle and the deep, velvety green of the trees had matched the decor too well to remove it. And he rather fancied the idea that the castle was none other than the Akademie der Zauberei in the Black Forest in Krohn’s native Germany. But as he stared at it that evening, Severus had the feeling that the painting was hiding something and that it had been perhaps enchanted in some way. He suspected that the reason he had not removed it was that warding spells, very subtle ones, had been placed on the picture to keep anyone from removing it or investigating the wall behind it. Even as those thoughts occurred to him, he felt a strange reluctance to disturb it.

Walking over to the painting, he examined the frame after a moment of hesitation, running his fingers along the smooth wood, before gently removing it from the wall. He felt the mild repelling spell dissipate and fade altogether as the painting left the wall. Severus looked at the back of the picture for a moment before gently setting it on his writing desk with every intention of returning it to its original position when he was finished with his search.

Turning his attention back to the wall, Severus frowned as he found himself looking at blank stone and nothing more. He cautiously touched it before drawing his wand. He was absolutely certain that the wall held a secret. The wards placed on the painting was enough to convince him of that.

“And-huljan!” he said in a low murmur, pointing his wand at the wall as he cast a spell to reveal hidden things.

It was not an incantation that would have been found in the standard book of spells for any year at Hogwarts, but Severus recalled hearing his old professor using spell words in an ancient Gothic tongue on more than one occasion. This one, he happened to remember, was the spell that revealed the secret cabinet that Krohn had kept in his office, which contained a bottle of fire whiskey and a few curiosities. The advantages of being a perfect, Severus noted, never seemed to end.

The gray stone shimmered and disappeared, leaving a wooden panel behind. It had been cleverly disguised. An ordinary revealing spell would not have exposed the hidden panel. Krohn would have made certain of that. Severus tapped the mahogany board with one knuckle and then his wand, wondering how it was intended to be opened or removed. For a moment he contemplated blasting it. Then he realized that the man who had been the head of Slytherin house for more than forty years would have counted on that. At best it would do no good and at worst his spell would be reflected back upon the person casting it, but at twice the strength. Reynard Krohn had been crafty.

Severus trailed the tip of his wand across the wood as he struggled to decide whether or not to cast an opening spell on the panel as though it were a locked door. There was an audible snick as his wand point touched a nearly imperceptible rough spot on the panel. It swung out slightly, and Severus caught the edge of it and pulled it open to reveal a pile of three aging, but neatly stacked parchments. His heart pounded as he removed them one by one from the small and secret vault.

He took the scrolls to the couch and unrolled the first one to begin skimming its contents. But he already knew in his heart what information they contained. Could Krohn have known any deeper or darker secrets than the ones that allowed passage to and possibly even from the demon realm? Severus thought not.

“It is my intention to preserve knowledge that might otherwise be lost. Future generations may need to know how we have done what we have done in banishing Grindelwald to the realm that the Founders of this school designed only for demons. They may require this knowledge one day, so it must not be lost. Below are the ingredients and instructions for the banishing potion used in our efforts ...”

Snape read over the list of ingredients: monkshood, powdered dragon’s horn, essence of belladonna, about half a dozen things found in his favorite cauldron cleaning solutions, and a few rather rare odds and ends. He made a mental note to find a different brand of cleaning products to help prevent any future accidents before taking up the second roll of parchment.

“Arcane theoretical texts from the twelfth century have suggested that the process that sealed the realm can be reversed under the right circumstances. These texts have since been destroyed for the greater good of the wizarding and muggle populations, both of whom could easily fall prey to the hoard of monsters if they were ever released upon the world again. But knowledge is power and should not be so easy cast aside. The gist of those texts are as follows ...”

The information was on the final scroll of parchment. There was a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach as he read over the text. The theory seemed sound. Professor Krohn had certainly done his research properly. Actually, Severus thought he could see the hand of Albus Dumbledore in the project as well. That was never an easy thing to miss. Severus shivered as he realized how easily the barrier could be ruptured by a powerful wizard, especially one with a strong background in potions, alchemy, and dark magic. He rolled up the scroll immediately.

Just that morning he had informed the headmaster of everything that had happened at the Death Eater meeting: the coming attack upon Hogwarts, Voldemort’s orders, and the ultimatum he had given Severus regarding the information on the prison realm. Albus had informed him that he should not return, that given the threat, the risk was too great. Severus had disagreed.

“We must know when the attack will come. Countless lives are at stake. Our preparations must be perfect if we hope to counter what Voldemort has planned. If I can find some scrap of useless information, anything to show him that I remain obedient, then we can gain a great advantage in the conflict,” Severus had argued.

Dumbledore put a hand on his young colleague’s shoulder and answered, “Countless lives might be spared, but yours would almost certainly be lost. Voldemort does not make idle threats. We both know this, Severus. I don’t think our side could stand to lose you in that manner.”

He had appreciated the sentiments. Albus had always made him feel valuable and welcome whereas Severus often had seen, especially during the first days after the end of the previous war, merely another Death Eater, only another Dark Wizard staring back at him from the mirror every morning. But even then it had comforted him, and confused him as well, to know that at least one person could see more than that in him.

Severus chuckled in irony and said quietly to himself as he gathered the scrolls, “And here I am at what is almost certainly the end of all this business and the end me as well, and I have found one more person who for some mysterious reason manages to see me as he does.”

He thought of Hermione for a moment as he tucked the documents into the sleeve of his robes, knowing that it was time to speak with Dumbledore again and discuss what would become of the parchments. But he already knew.

When Severus entered the headmaster’s office, the first thing he noticed was that Fawkes appeared to be nearing another Burning Day. To Severus that always signaled trouble as the most unpleasant portion of the phoenix’s life cycle normally seemed to coincide with bad times: the middle of the Basilisk attacks, during the horrible nonsense from two years ago at the beginning of the war, and in midst of the first battle with Voldemort when a phoenix might have proved most useful. Fawkes looked at Severus with a rather doleful expression and seemed to sigh.

Professor Dumbledore, who was seated at his desk skimming a copy of The Daily Prophet, glanced over at the bird and made a sympathetic sound before folding up the newspaper. Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic, who had only acknowledged the return of Voldemort after the first assault on the school, were still not on good terms and therefore rarely sharing information. More could be learned by reading the paper than by trying to acquire information through official channels in the Ministry, and even unofficial channels sometimes, Severus suspected.

“Severus, what can I do for you this evening?” questioned Professor Dumbledore, gesturing for him to have a seat.

“I found what I have been searching for,” he said, taking out the scrolls and placing them on the desk before sitting down heavily in one of the chairs.

“I am not surprised,” said Dumbledore, shaking his head. He did not unroll any of the parchments. It was not necessary. He knew what was written upon them.

“I had hoped that Professor Krohn had exercised more common sense than this, but the man loved his work and the pursuit of knowledge,” said Snape.

“As do you,” said Albus with an indulgent smile.

“But I would have never secreted away information like this,” Severus objected.

“This was not always a secret, you know.”

Severus managed a thin smile and said, “Yes, some of it was even in Hogwarts: A History until fifty years ago. That edition of the book was a great help during that little escapade a few weeks ago.”

“Indeed.”

“But then Krohn comes along with his theoretical texts, new ideas and hypotheses, and - I shudder to think - possibly experiments, and almost a millennium of good and responsible wizardry goes down the drain,” said Severus with a derisive snort.

“Give Reynard a little more credit. His notes were not easy to find, or were they?” questioned Dumbledore.

“They were well hidden,” he conceded.

“And I suppose I should tell you that he was not entirely to blame, though I did ask him to destroy any records.”

“Yes, I thought there was something familiar about the way in which this was done. Your fingerprints in the matter, if I may be so bold.”

“Always, Severus,” Dumbledore nodded. “But it was his expertise that made what we did possible.”

“I never truly understood him. He was always like a man from another time, another century to me,” he admitted.

“And yet you seemed to grieve greatly when he died,” Dumbledore observed.

“He was not a brave man nor half so cunning as other people made him out to be, but he understood his students, even though the feeling was hardly ever mutual,” said Severus. “He sent me to you when I knew I couldn’t belong to the Dark anymore.”

“That he did, and I am still grateful for it.”

“Not half so grateful as I was then,” said Severus.

“I can well imagine,” said Dumbledore, nodding slowly. “Did I ever tell you I was with him that day? The day he was killed?”

“No.”

“Reynard was, as you said, never a very brave man. He did what was necessary and no more. He was the head of Slytherin house and understood its principles well. But, and I believe you can attest to this, Severus, he tried to steer his students away from the Dark Arts whether by hook or by crook. I cannot say how many of his other former students owe him their lives, but the number is not a small one,” said Dumbledore in preface to his story.

“I was walking with Minerva from Honeyduke’s that evening. Most of the faculty had returned for the start of term and were taking advantage of the opportunity to shop in the village as it was a Saturday. One would think that after nearly eighteen years the memory of it would diminish, but I suppose there are things that we will remember for the rest of our lives.

“There was the sound of several people apparating into the village some ways down the road. That was never a good sign in those days. The village just seemed to erupt in magic as several heavily robed and masked figures appeared on the square. I can never quite agree upon how many there were. Perhaps as many as a ten or as few as seven. It was a very bold strike. I must say that. Minerva and I drew our wands and began exchanging curses with two Death Eaters who had turned their attention in our direction. Not to boast, but they soon found themselves in quite a predicament.

“The entire attack probably lasted ten minutes, and then they were gone. It was Agatha Sprout calling for me when I knew that something terrible had happened. She was white as a sheet, and not just anything could do that to her. I instructed Minerva to stay where she was and followed Sprout to the alley next to Gladrags Wizardwear. Poppy was already with him, and I could see it in her eyes that Reynard wasn’t going to make it. He was calling for me with what little strength he had left,” said Dumbledore.

Severus watched as the expression in his eyes became rather sad and thoughtful. He waited for the headmaster to speak, but Albus was silent.

“What had happened to him?” prompted Snape.

“It was an experimental killing curse of some sort. Poppy explained later what it had done to him, but ... I can’t quite recall,” he answered.

“That’s all right.”

“Vector and Sinistra were standing near him too, but far enough away to give Poppy room to work, to make Reynard more comfortable. Anna looked incredibly pale and shaken. Vector was practically holding her up. She had been his student, if you remember, Severus. She graduated just two years ahead of you. Of course, Beatrice Vector and Krohn were practically contemporaries and as often as not rivals. Eight years apart in age, I believe. They later told me that Reynard had selflessly shielded them from the curse at the expense of his own life. Beatrice was incredulous, but Anna, one of his favorite students, had always known what he was capable of. She is always losing people she cares about in these wars, it seems,” said Albus, shaking his head at thought of the young professor. “But that is to be expected,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Do you know what his last words were, Severus?”

“No,” he replied quietly, almost unable to imagine calculating, impassive Krohn risking his life for two of his fellow professors, especially Gryffindor Vector.

“‘Be sure to offer my position to Snape.’ That was exactly what he said before he closed his eyes and very quietly died.”

“You never mentioned this before.”

“Back then you would have blamed yourself.”

“Perhaps,” said Severus.

“Are you ready to deal with the issue at hand now?” questioned Dumbledore.

“I believe I am,” he nodded.

“Then do what must be done.”

There had been no question in Severus’ mind what had to be done with the dangerous documents. From the moment he removed them from the vault he had known. He gathered them from Albus’ desk and tossed them into the nearby fireplace and pointed his wand.

“Incendio!” he said in a firm, resolved voice, watching the scrolls burst into flames. It had been the only option. There was no where safe enough to keep such things, not from Voldemort.

“Now I suppose we should discuss what will become of you, Severus,” said Albus as they both watched the parchment burn to ashes.

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